Rainy Day Fun
by marshmallow.wolverine1
Summary: It's turned out to be a wet, grey, rainy afternoon. When John and Sherlock arrive home soaking wet, who knows what could happen? This is my first mature fic, please let me know how to improve this without being nasty. Criticism is welcome, just being a jerk is not.


On a particularly grey afternoon, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson leisurely made their way home on foot after closing a particularly difficult case. The past week had been unusually hot and muggy, making the day's significantly cooler weather quite welcome. As they made their way across an empty street, John's stomach grumbled particularly loudly. Neither of them had eaten lunch, due to the case, and it was nearing a quarter past three o'clock. Sherlock glanced at him momentarily, then reached into his jacket pocket for his cell phone and began firing off a text message to Angelo, reserving a table for two. He wasn't particularly hungry, but John needed to eat and it was would be another forty-five minutes or so before they would arrive at 221 B Baker Street, as opposed to perhaps fifteen minutes to reach the restaurant. Sherlock put his cell phone away, and adjusted his jacket. "We'll be making a slight detour, John, if that's all right." He announced. John nodded, as his stomach rumbled again. "Yeah, sure, that'd be fine. Just make it quick, if you can. I'm bloody famished." He replied with a frown. His feet hurt, he was tired and his stomach felt as though it were attempting to consume itself. "It's only a few more blocks." Sherlock said encouragingly. John sighed. 'It may as well be a few more miles.' He thought.

Ten minutes later, they stepped into Angelo's. The owner welcomed them warmly, and ushered them to their table. Angelo had placed a crystal vase with a single red rose in the middle of the table before heading off to the kitchen. John chuckled softly, remembering the first time Sherlock had brought him here. "Will you be having anything?" John asked a little pointedly. Sherlock didn't eat as much as he ought to, especially recently. He'd lost a noticeable amount of weight, which worried John, considering how slender Sherlock was to begin with. John raised his eyebrows. "You _are _going to order a little something, I hope." He added, his brown eyes boldly staring into Sherlock's baby blues. Sherlock's mouth curled into a very subtle smile, one that John had barely been able to notice. "Yes, John." He answered, touched that John cared about him. "In fact, I took it upon myself to order for us both ahead of time." He mentioned, evoking an 'Ah!' from John. "Is that who you were texting, then? Angelo?" He asked, hoping that he was right in order to even slightly impress Sherlock. "Yes, although I should think that would be rather obvious." He replied, watching John, who looked a touch disappointed. "Oh, don't look like that." Sherlock added a little more softly. "You've developed your deductive skills considerably in the past year and a half that I've known you." John blushed, the compliment completely catching him off guard. "Well, er, thanks." He said awkwardly. Sherlock crossed his legs underneath the table. "There's no need to thank me, John. I'm merely pointing out a fact." He said, as Angelo himself delivered their meals to the table.

John's meal consisted of steak with mushrooms and caramelised onions, avocado risotto, white wine and raspberry sherbet for dessert. Sherlock, on the other hand, had merely ordered a bowl of tomato bisque. John had savoured every bite, taking his time. Sherlock had long finished his soup by the time that John had completed his meal. Not that Sherlock minded. It was nice to see John so content. Of course, upon realising just how long he'd taken to eat, John apologised. Sherlock told him not to stress over it, and paid for the meal despite Angelo's protests before they continued their walk home.

By the time they'd reached their flat, it had begun to pour rain. They were both soaking wet as they stepped into 221 B. Without so much as a warning, Sherlock began to remove John's jacket as they stood in the entrance way. "I can do that myself, you know." John pointed out, Sherlock's long, graceful fingers grazing his neck. Shivers travelled down his spine, as much from the sensation of Sherlock's touch, as the way his spectacular eyes were gazing at him. "Yes, but you weren't, were you?" Sherlock asked. "That rain is rather cold, and the last thing either of us need is to catch a cold." Sherlock hung the jacket to dry, before reaching out to remove John's wet shirt. Before he could do anything, John began to remove Sherlock's jacket, evoking a look of surprise from his flatmate. It wasn't easy, being so much shorter, but he managed to get Sherlock's jacket off, draping it over the John couldn't help but notice Sherlock's erect nipples through the dripping fabric as he turned back to his flatmate, and diverted his gaze with some difficulty. John tentatively reached out, and began to undo the button at the collar of Sherlock's purple shirt. He glanced at those dark little freckles on his long neck, before continuing to undo the rest, fumbling a few times along the way. John wanted to see that alabaster chest, with those subtle muscles and taut pink nipples. He began to feel a distinct stirring in his trousers, and he hoped that Sherlock wouldn't notice. Once the last button was undone, John tugged the shirt gently, untucking it. He looked up at Sherlock, who was watching him closely. His face was flushed, and his eyes shining. John's breath caught in his throat. Damn it all, if it was possible, the man was even more beautiful than John had ever seen him. He didn't dare move, because if he did, then Sherlock would certainly notice that he was now fully erect. Sherlock removed his shirt the rest of the way, before quickly pulling John's simple t-shirt over his head with one swift movement. Sherlock let it drop to the floor, as he looked into John's soulful eyes with a strange look on his face. John tilted his head up unconsciously, as Sherlock leaned in closely. John could smell him, a heady mixture of soap and salty skin. Sherlock moved his face closer to John's, and kissed him. Gently, reservedly, as though he weren't entirely certain what he was doing. John felt his knees begin to weaken, as Sherlock's kiss deepened just before he ended it. Sherlock's lips were just as silky as John had imagined they would be. John let out a soft groan, wanting for more. John's heart was racing, and Sherlock's breath had quickened.

Sherlock deftly unbuckled John's belt, which triggered a slight objection from John. Sherlock stopped, removing his hands. John's face was crimson. He felt completely stupid. For the past year and a half, this was exactly the sort of thing he'd fantasized about. And now that it was happening, he found himself embarrassed. "Have I done something I oughtn't have?" Sherlock asked. John sighed. "No, I just… Well, it's only…" He tried to find the right words. "I suppose that this all caught me by surprise." He admitted. John had never suspected Sherlock had felt any sort of romantic or sexual feelings for him and had long before given up on such a prospect. "I must admit, it caught me by surprise, as well." Sherlock told him softly, his voice huskier than usual. He ran a hand through his dark curls. John bit his lip. His cock was throbbing and quite nearly aching. He noticed that Sherlock was hard, as well. John could see that he was well-endowed, even for someone of his height. Sherlock noticed his gaze, and blushed slightly. John put a hand on Sherlock's chest, and looked deeply into his eyes. "Do you… Know how I really feel about you?" He asked, thinking that for all the work he had put into hiding his feelings, Sherlock had likely seen through that façade. "Yes, it was obvious from the beginning that you were attracted to me. And, that over time, you began to feel more and more affectionate towards me." Sherlock replied somewhat hesitantly. John half-smiled. All that work to keep his secret had been for nothing. "And, how do you feel about me?" He asked, as Sherlock's hands slid to unbutton John's pants. "Rather amorous." Sherlock admitted, as he leaned in and kissed John again. Less gently this time. He'd been kissed before, certainly. But, Sherlock had never initiated it before.

By the end of the kiss, John's trousers were about his ankles, revealing red y-front pants. Sherlock slipped his own off, before heading to his room with a 'follow me' gesture to John. Once they reached Sherlock's bedroom, John's heart really began to race. This was really happening. Sherlock encouraged John to lie down beside him on the bed, after retrieving a small bottle of lube from the bureau. Barely a moment had passed, before Sherlock's lips were against his own, this time, Sherlock's tongue delved into John's mouth. John let out a soft moan, as their tongues explored one another. Simultaneously, Sherlock's hands had begun to wander down John's chest, and into his red pants. John moaned as Sherlock's soft hand wrapped around his painfully hard cock. John's hips bucked forward of their own volition, and Sherlock slid his hand slowly up, then off of John's manhood. He pulled off John's underwear, revealing a thick, 7 ½ inch cock that curved subtly upwards. Sherlock nipped at John's neck, before slowly making his way down the slightly soft torso, kissing and licking along the way, until Sherlock reached that lovely cock. A small puddle of pre-cum had already formed at the base. Sherlock began to ever so slowly run a finger along the underside of it's length. John was finding it difficult to stay still, not used to being the one to lay back and be touched. Sherlock's firm behind was within reach, and John reached out to grab it. As John gripped Sherlock's rather picturesque arse, he suddenly felt a wet heat surround his cock. He groaned loudly, as his balls began to tighten. One of Sherlock's hands commenced massaging his testicles. As Sherlock's tongue swirled around the head, John's began to shudder. Sherlock took all of John that he could into his mouth, as his lover spasmed in an intense orgasm. The sounds that John made were nearly enough to make Sherlock come. He swallowed, then lay back beside John, his fingers trailing along the soft chest. John's breath was ragged, and his eyes were still closed. It was a moment before John could speak. He opened his eyes. "That was amazing, Sherlock." He panted. Sherlock looked at him, a smile on his lips. John smiled back. "But now, it's your turn." John pulled off Sherlock's white cotton briefs, and Sherlock's 10 inch, smooth manhood sprang forth almost majestically. John could feel himself begin to harden once more. It had been a long time since he'd been experienced two erections in such a short time period. The effects that Sherlock had on him were astounding. He squeezed an amount of lube on his hand and warmed it, before gripping Sherlock's cock gently, but firmly, and gliding his hand from top to bottom. Sherlock's breathing began to quicken, as John ever so slightly quickened his pace. It wasn't long before Sherlock was softly groaning in delight. John slid a finger down Sherlock's perineum, to his entrance. "Mmm, yes, John!" He encouraged, as John massaged the sensitive area while stroking with a good rhythm. He slowly slid a finger inside, moving in and out a few times before adding a second finger. Being a doctor, he easily found Sherlock's prostate, eliciting a sharp intake of breath and bucking of the hips from Sherlock.

John was fully erect again, his cock begging for attention. He released his grip, and experimentally positioned himself between Sherlock's hips. Sherlock didn't quite seem to know what to do. "You really are a virgin, aren't you?" John asked. "I am." Sherlock answered, "Although, if you'll hurry up, we can change that." He was as hard as a rock, and it was becoming unbearable. John could sympathise. He lubed himself up, and added a little more to Sherlock's entrance, and repositioned himself. John slowly entered Sherlock, kissing his chest as he did. "How are you doing?" John asked, wanting to make certain that Sherlock wasn't in any real discomfort. "Fine, John." Came his response, although his voice was slightly strained. John slowed his entry further. 'Fuck, he's so damn tight.' He thought, glancing into Sherlock's eyes. Once he was fully in, he was still for a few moments to allow Sherlock to adjust to his girth. John had received complaints before about his thickness, and considering how small Sherlock was, he was being extra careful. During these moments, John kissed Sherlock passionately, playing with his nipples.

John began to move, angling for Sherlock's prostate and hitting the mark precisely. Sherlock's moans filled the room, his eyes closed as his alabaster skin shone with perspiration. "Mmmm, yes… Oh, John!" He cried, and bit his bottom lip. He gripped John's hips, as his breath grew ragged. "Deeper. Harder and deeper." He fairly demanded. John complied, feeling himself near the edge as Sherlock's moans grew louder. As Sherlock came, twitching and crying out as intense pleasure swept over him, John orgasmed with him, shuddering. It was a moment before John could move. He withdrew himself, and lay beside Sherlock, who held him close. They were both out of breath, satiated, and utterly blissful. They quickly fell asleep, as rain pelted the window and soft thunder rolled.


End file.
